Dog On The Tracks
by freddiexsinful
Summary: Based on the TV series and novel The Take by Martina Cole. - 19 year-old Freddie Jackson has his new wife Jackie feeling like a dog on the tracks when he begins a long trail of adultery, lies, and deceit.
1. Stroppy Little Mare

_To preface, this fic is based on the novel though the characters have the appearances of the television series (as they are quite opposite in the book, notably with Jackie and Maggie). _

_Dedicated to Sarah._

**1975**

Jackie Jackson had always been an ugly crier, but as she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, with red-rimmed eyes, swollen lips, and big streaks of mascara running down her plump cheeks, she thought she looked like Frankenstein's monster. She felt about the same, too. The pregnancy had made her heavy and stiff as the dead, and with deep stretch marks running up her stomach and along her arms, she even _looked_ stitched-together.

She was seventeen years old and already eight-and-a-half months pregnant with her first born—a daughter, her mother and everyone else told her, because the babe was sitting high and Jackie looked (and felt!) as wide as a house. Even Freddie had told her as much, which hurt, but she always laughed before she cried about it.

That's what she was doing now; crying over Freddie, and her mum, Lena, was annoyed. Only three months ago, the two had gotten married and lived together in a council flat only a short bus ride away, and already Jackie had shown up in tears no less than ten times sobbing over something her inconsiderate husband had done. Even her dark-eyed beauty of a younger sister, Maggie, was fed up with the mess her sister had become.

'Give it a rest, will you?' said Lena from the sitting room, as Jackie blew her runny nose on a wad of toilet paper. '...You don't need to make a show out of yourself. You're certainly not going to impress _us_.'

'He was shagging around!' Jackie spat nasally in response. 'I could smell it on him when he come home last night!'

'Well,' said Lena through a scoff. 'Of course he is. Look at what he's come home to.'

Immediately, she regretted her words. Even Maggie peered over from her spot on the settee. Of course, what she'd meant had been that Jackie was a weeping mess, but the poor girl had as much self esteem as she had sense, ever since she'd married that reckless gangster. And so, the scream and loud slamming of the bathroom door, as well as the noisy sobbing that followed, were both expected and dreaded by Lena and her youngest daughter.

'What did that do, Mum?' said Maggie, annoyed.

Jackie pressed her back to the door and sank down onto the floor, wailing wildly. Of course, part of it was to get that attention she craved. She'd always been a stroppy little mare, loud-mouthed and at the center of the attention. Her need to be in the limelight had only grown since her five year-old sister was born, and now the much prettier, kinder, and sweeter of the two Summers sisters was the subject of all of Jackie's jealousy and hate. Even her Freddie had made a comment or two about the girl that had driven a stake in her heart.

And yet, Jackie Summers, now _Jackie Jackson_, didn't direct any anger at her husband. For every time he'd insulted her weight, which had grown exponentially in her pregnancy, she remembered one that he'd commented how nice her cleavage looked in a dress. He wasn't all bad, she thought. And her mum was right: who'd want to come home to a wailing cow with a belly as round as the moon, grown-out roots, and makeup streaking down her cheeks?

She lifted herself from the cold, tiled flooring and waddled over to the sink. She looked a mess, but it wasn't completely unfixable, she thought. She splashed a bit of water on her face and rubbed the thick layer of foundation and mascara off her cheeks with a towel. Setting it down, she then ran a brush over her long, feathered hair to pull the loose strands back in place (Freddie had said she looked a bit like Farrah Fawcett, so she'd kept it styled like that for some time now). With a little bit of lipstick, in her baggy chiffon blouse, sequined shorts (which she insisted on wearing, even though they were far too tight on her now), and thick-heeled boots, she almost looked like a rock star.

She remembered when Freddie had treated her like one. Oh, hell, they'd had a ride. They were so completely in love with one another that it didn't matter that his mother Maddie scrutinized her every move, or that her own parents had told her Freddie was bad news. When they'd started seeing each other, no one else mattered. Even if the Earth collided with the sun, she wouldn't have cared, as long as she was in her Freddie's arms when they burnt up. She'd fallen arse-over-tit and couldn't get up.

He'd been good to her, too. Made her feel like she was the Juliet to his Romeo. Which was why it hurt so bloody bad to think he might be treating another woman like that, puffing her up like his sun and stars while he's got a pregnant wife, crying herself to sleep at home.

_They're just slags,_ she reassured herself. _He'll be done with them once he's done with them, and then he'll come back. They always do._

Now that she thought of it, all of the great icons of romance seemed to end in tragedy, and she was beginning to know why.

When Maggie Summers emerged from the door, Jackie had sunk down onto the toilet, pressing her red face to her hands. She was sick of crying, sick of feeling lower than dirt, and sick to her stomach, now that the baby started wriggling around inside of her. She looked about ready to pop any day now, and she sure as hell felt like it. She just wanted the thing out, if only to look good for her Freddie again.

Jackie peered up through her fingers with an envious eye. Her sister had always been prettier, even as a baby, with big, glossy brown eyes and rosy cheeks, and she'd grown into a lean girl with long, silky hair and a friendly smile. Jackie knew that once the girl hit puberty, she'd always steal the spotlight, and she was dreading the day when low-cut shorts and midriff-bearing shirts started finding their way into the Summers' laundry pile.

Jackie's only claim to fame had been that she'd developed early. Even at twelve, she was being sought after by men, and at fourteen she looked like a proper young woman. She'd grown a large bust and dressed to show it off, and though she'd never really been _thin_, her curves had been in all the right places.

Now, she was going through what she should have been at twice her age; her breasts had sagged and her belly was large and wide, too. She saw the women in those mother's magazines with their tight, toned bellies and their perky breasts and glowing faces. All lies, she thought, and then bitterly wondered what her sister would look like pregnant. The vindictive part of her wished she'd drop out and sag like she and their mother had, but knowing Maggie, she'd probably look young and beautiful at eighty.

And Maggie wasn't dumb enough to get knocked up and married at seventeen. All Jackie could see in her future was a couple more kids heaved into that shabby flat of theirs, but Maggie had the world at her fingertips.

Jackie hated her for it.

'You know, you shouldn't wear those boots,' said Maggie, sitting on the edge of the tub. 'Your feet probably don't feel too good in those. —And you shouldn't smoke!' The sudden interjection was due to Jackie pulling out a pack from the nearby cupboard. 'It's bad for the baby.'

Maggie had always spoken like a girl three times her age. It was easy to forget how young she was when she both looked and sounded like a teenager. Not even ten years old and she was already more mature than her loud-mouthed, teenage sister.

'And what do you know?' said Jackie stubbornly, lighting up without a second thought. 'You're a kid.'

'Yeah, and smarter than you,' retorted Maggie, and she immediately regretted it. She always had to be so careful around her older sister, always had to be the mature one. Jackie was so touchy those days, and ever since she'd been with Freddie, it had only gotten worse.

'Look,' she went onto say, softer now that she saw her sister was on the brink of angry tears again. 'Why don't you take a bath and get cleaned up, yeah? You'll feel better, and so will Freddie when he sees you, alright?'

Even as young as she was, she knew mentioning Freddie would get Jackie to agree, at the bleached-blonde nodded, standing weakly while Maggie went to starting the bath.

_If people like this, more chapters will come._


	2. Better Than Pethidine

Vera Roberts skin like copper, a voice like melted chocolate, and looks like Diahnn Caroll. She was a catch, and even Freddie knew he was lucky to be lying beside her in the motel just off the A13.

She'd come from poor just like the rest of them, but you wouldn't know it by looking at her. She held herself in the refined manner of royalty and dressed the same, with relaxed hair, sleek pantsuits, and tasteful jewelry. Even when she talked, she bore the air of a posh girl raised in East End. She worked for the Clancys, like Freddie had been for the past few years, and he knew that by bagging her, he might get to get on Siddy Clancy's good side.

At nineteen, Freddie Jackson was an up-and-comer, but not exactly a force to be reckoned with. He was broad, fit, and cocksure all the same, but he hadn't gotten the chance to prove himself just yet. Vera had known and worked with Siddy firsthand as his financial adviser, and Freddie thought that he might get in good with the big timers with a word from Vera.

Of course, that wasn't why he'd shagged her. She was five feet, eleven inches of black beauty, which sounded a lot more intriguing than what his pregnant wife had to offer. Jackie had once been the woman of his dreams, but the moment she got knocked up, she went sour like old milk. He already had doubts about marrying her, but now anyone who looked at her could see they'd been realized.

She was only five months along back then when they'd eloped, but now she was ready to burst, a few days past her due date. She'd gotten as big as a house—bigger, even—with ugly stretch marks and sagging tits. She was lazy, too, and kept the flat they'd gotten looking like a hovel, with the laundry piling up until she was forced to wash it when they didn't have any pants left. Every day, she became heavier and heavier baggage, and when the choice was between that old cow and a woman like Vera Roberts, how could he say no?

Freddie was fixing on a shirt and Vera was still smoking on the bed when the phone on the end table rang. He glanced over his shoulder while the accountant reached over to pluck it up and held it to her ear.

'What is it?' A moment passed, before she gave a knowing look to Freddie, who just shook his head as he continued dressing himself.

Vera didn't have to say anything else before a loud series of shouts came from the other end of the line, and then she hung up silently, pressing the cigarette to her lips as she watched Freddie. '...She's in labour.'

'Not in labour enough to stop her from ringing up everyone in town asking for me,' said Freddie bitterly, tucking his shirt into his trousers. 'That cow'll get on just fine for a few more hours without me holding her bloody hand. That's what her mum and sister's there for.'

Vera had nothing to say about that, and snubbed her cigarette out in the tray. 'I need get back to Deptford, Fred. I've got to see Siddy.'

Freddie was infatuated with Vera, and swaggered over towards her with a little smirk. 'What, already? It's like you two's married.'

'As if that would change anything,' said Vera, and Freddie was intrigued, as he was by everything she did. She was an older, wiser, beautiful woman—and Freddie was besotted by her.

She stood, then, and slipped into her gold Biba pantsuit, fixing her hair and numerous, but not tacky, bracelets. 'Don't leave the poor woman alone all _night_, now.'

Freddie would go, he figured dejectedly, but he'd wait until he was damn ready to do so.

Jackie was wailing, and everyone in the room had a headache. You would have thought the woman was giving birth to a bloody _whale_, the way she thrashed about on the bed, crying and moaning in agony. She was making such a fuss that she was riding everyone to the end of the respective tethers, even the nurses, who were starting to lose their patience and their pity for the seventeen year-old.

'Oh, it hurts!' shouted Jackie, and Lena, having done her best thus far to calm her insatiable child, had given up holding the girl's hand in favour of running a hand over her face.

'I know it bloody hurts, Jack.' she said, annoyed. 'I had to do it, at your age too, I didn't have no injections back then.'

'Cor, Mum!' Jackie threw her head back, writhing and flailing like she was being given an exorcism. Lena was about to throw in the towel and leave the room entirely, but she felt a parental duty to stay by her daughter's side, so there she stood.

Jackie seemed to calm a bit, realizing she wasn't about to receive the attention she so violently tried to garner, and so she sniffled and rubbed at the tears and snot that had begun running down her face.

'He was with a woman, you know,' she said quietly, then, before a labour pang hit her gut and she seized up, trying to grit her teeth and refrain from groaning out. Lena appreciated the effort, but the complaining it came with was giving her just as much of a headache. '...She answered the phone. They was at the Holiday Inn, Mum.'

'I know,' Lena responded bitterly. She could have told Jackie a thousand times that Freddie Jackson was bad news, and Jackie would have ignored her every last word. If she wasn't her daughter, she would have thought the just desserts were proper, but she loved that noisy little mare, whether or not she wanted to sometimes.

'I'm having his baby, and he's off shagging some _whore!_' Jackie spat, and Lena turned to look at her.

'You think complaining's going to bring him back?' she asked with a scoff. 'That's why he's off with some tart, because he don't got no reason to come here, with you carrying on like you are!'

That hurt Jackie, and she started crying, but her mother didn't regret it. Instead, she grasped either side of the girl's red, puffy face and tilted her head up to look at her.

'Now you listen to me. You're going to stop this, clean yourself up, and present yourself proper for if Freddie does come around. And if he don't, then you're gonna have this baby, and you're gonna love it, and care for it, and no Freddie Jackson's gonna make you do otherwise. Do you understand me, girl?'

Jackie pulled away from her mother roughly, but the woman's words seemed to work on her.

...For a while, at least, until the next wave of pain hit, and she was howling like a wild animal again, and looking even worse.

Maggie was out in the waiting room with Freddie's mum, Maddie Jackson, who was just as aggravated at her daughter-in-law as the rest of the girl's family was. Maddie didn't like the Summers'. Jackie was a dirty girl, lazy and unkempt, and her mother was just as bad for enabling the girl's behaviour. Maggie was the only tolerable one, in her humble opinion. She was well-dressed and polite. Though, she was sure Jackie had probably been at some point, before turning in the wicked little bitch she was. Maddie wondered if the youngest of the Summers family would fall into a similar fate.

Maggie was annoyed by her sister, but she was _angry_ that Freddie couldn't have shown up. Even at five years old, she knew it was a man's responsibility to take care of his wife, and right now Freddie Jackson certainly wasn't doing that. He was letting her flail and scream and cry out for him, all at the expense of everyone within earshot. If he'd only show up, it might shut the girl up for a few minutes at the very least, and everyone's ears could get a well-earned break.

When Freddie _did_ stride into the place, pushing the doors open in a grandiose movement in that studded jacket of his with a swagger in his step, announcing his arrival like the bloody prodigal son, the entire hospital seemed to sigh collectively. Despite tensions being high for _everyone_, the hospital staff included, the gangster's sudden appearance was nothing short of a relief.

Maggie, peering up from her colouring crayons, didn't seem as thrilled to see him as everyone else, and she cast a dark-eyed glare in his direction even as he approached her.

'Hello, Maggie,' he said cheerfully, though the five year-old didn't return the sentiment. '...What've you got there?'

'You're late,' was all Maggie said.

Freddie snorted through a patronizing laugh. 'Bloody hell, Mags. Lighten up, would you?'

He then turned to his mother, Maddie, and kissed her cheek. 'So, I s'pose I should get to what I come for. Where is the ol' cow anyway?'

The answer was clear enough by the loud 'Freddie?!' that came from down the hall. Freddie was completely and thoroughly un-thrilled, but with the reluctance of a man being taken to the inevitable death row, he slumped towards the room he was sure Jackie would have bolted out of had she not been halfway to pushing out a babe.

'Freddie!' Jackie nearly screamed the second he appeared in the doorway. In that moment, Lena, who usually hated her son-in-law and all that he'd done to her Jackie, had to hold herself back from leaping up and kissing him in delight. She realized, rather solemnly, what her daughter must have felt for the boy. Even when he'd done all that he'd done, the relief of him coming home was warmly welcomed.

'Well, look at you,' said Freddie, then, giving a rather disgusted laugh. 'You look like hell, woman.'

Jackie, insecurely but crying with happiness, wiped her eyes and tried to fix up her hair, rather pointlessly. 'Oh, Freddie,' she said. 'I can't believe you're here.'

Freddie clicked his tongue and strode forward. 'As if I'd miss the birth of my first born, eh?' he said with a grin, reaching down to pat her big belly.

Freddie Jackson must have been better than Pethidine, thought Lena, because it was as if Jackie's pain disappeared the moment he turned up.

_More to come!_


End file.
